


I think you're beautiful.

by Ilerre



Series: Ways to Say I Love You [21]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sibling Incest, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 08:00:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4952629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilerre/pseuds/Ilerre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I think you're beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I think you're beautiful.

0

Daryl sighed tiredly and angrily pushed his damp hair away from his eyes.

He didn't know what had been going on with his body recently, but he was starting to get downright  _pissed_  at it. He felt  _tired_ , itchy, cranky; he wasn't horny (which was very strange in itself),  _tired_ , empty…oh, and so  _tired_ . Exhausted even.

Merle wasn't helping. The bastard was only saying everything was in Daryl's head and that he was just tired.

Well, of course he  _was_  tired.

What didn't he understand? Merle was intelligent, more than what people thought, but sometimes he was thick…and  _pigheaded_ , more so than Daryl. And right now, Merle was starting to get utterly insufferable.

When Daryl said he was tired, he meant it, and it wasn't just for the sake of speaking. And Merle pressing him forcibly and manhandling him against the door, kissing the living daylights out of him (which was normally a huge turn on for Daryl), well, today it wasn't making him hard; on the contrary, it unnerved him.

Merle was kissing his neck and Daryl managed to sneak his hands between them to push on his brother's chest. "Merle, please—" Merle must have thought he was begging for more because he promptly grasped Daryl's crotch through his pants.

Daryl hissed in slight pain and tried once again to push Merle. He felt suddenly drained and powerless. He knew Merle would never hurt him, but the simple thought of being that frail and totally helpless under the hands of a man suddenly scared him to death. "Merle, stop!"

Merle froze immediately and stepped back, huge blue eyes staring at Daryl incredulously. "Dare, what?" he breathed out. His chest was rising and falling rapidly and his cheeks were tinted red with arousal.

Daryl grimaced and leaned back against the front door. "I don't feel good, I—"

Merle put a gentle hand on his forehead and frowned. "You're burning up," he noticed.

Daryl nodded and winced when a sharp pain suddenly crossed his skull. "I've got a headache," he murmured softly and closed his eyes because the light was suddenly too much.

Merle hummed and wrapped an arm around his waist. "Yeah?" he murmured soothingly, leading Daryl to the couch.

Daryl nodded miserably. "I'm sorry, I—"

Merle gently ran a hand through his hair. "Hey, 't's okay. Remember two weeks ago? I was sick too, were ya mad at me?"

Daryl frowned and looked blearily at his brother. "Why should I have been mad?" he rasped. And when did his voice had suddenly gone hoarse?

Merle's frown intensified and he stroked his little brother's cheek gently. "You weren't. So why should I?"

Daryl let himself fall sideways on the couch. "I can't think, Mer'. My head hurts too much," he moaned. He closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes while Merle chuckled and grabbed the afghan Carol had made for them. He gently draped it over Daryl and caressed his cheek. "Try to sleep. If you're not better in an hour or so, we'll go see a doctor, aw'right?"

Daryl moaned and buried his face between the couch's cushions, only his hair picking out of the thick blanket. "I'll be better," he coughed, "don't wanna see no doctor," he mumbled.

Daryl must have caught some bug; he was sure it wasn't that serious. Merle caressed his back soothingly and waited for Daryl's deep and regular breath to tell him he was finally asleep. He stood up and walked quietly to the kitchen, feeling like drinking a cup of tea.

The fact the Dixon brothers had always preferred tea to coffee was always an endless mine of jokes among their friends. They liked to mention inexistent British roots— even if there probably wasn't more Georgian than the pair of them.

He stretched his neck to catch a glance at Daryl and smiled when he saw his baby brother still curled up and sleeping on the couch. He grabbed his cup and sat on a chair at the kitchen table, grabbing the pile of letters that had piled up throughout the weeks.

Unfortunately, they weren't the best at taking care of all the administrative matters, and they often received warning letters from either the gas or electricity company after putting off payments of the bills too long.

Merle would never forget the time, three years ago, when they were having a romantic dinner together and the light had suddenly gone off. They had finished with the light of candles, finding the situation overly fun, but their good mood had soon evaporated when they realized it also meant the central eating was also cut off.

During winter.

He didn't know if it was legal for companies to cut the heating off during winter but they had to hurriedly abandoned the house and camp at Rick and Shane's until they could contact and— _beg_ —the tax company to arrange the situation.

He guessed that was why they never forget to pay the bill again.

"Merle?"

Merle looked up at the raspy voice and frowned when he saw Daryl slumped against the armrest of the couch. He looked utterly downhearted and sick. He quickly got up and rushed to his brother, wincing at his pasty white face, damp hair and sunken eyes.

"I don't feel good, Merle," Daryl whimpered miserably while scratching his right arm frenetically.

The older Dixon nodded and grasped Daryl’s hand to stop the scratching and slowly lifted his sleeve. He hissed at the painful looking rash and looked up at Daryl. "Did ya touch somethin'?" he asked worriedly.

Daryl was looking at the wound with huge eyes and shook his head mutely. Seeing his brother was not going to answer, Merle gently tipped him under the chin. "Focus, Dare," he ordered firmly. "What did ya touch? Some poison ivy? Nettles?"

Daryl seemed to jerk out of his shock at his voice and tore his eyes away from the rash. "'f course, Merle. I only lived thirty fuckin' years in the mountains 'n I still don't know I have to avoid poison ivy 'n nettles," he drawled sarcastically.

Merle stared blankly at him, a stare he had perfected along the years of dealing with Daryl and his aggressive mood swings when he was sick. The younger man finally nodded meekly, breaking under his gaze. "Sorry," he muttered, "no, I don't know." He grimaced suddenly and reached the hand Merle wasn't holding to scratch his back. "It just itches,  _everywhere_ ," he complained.

Merle pursed his lips and slapped Daryl's hand to take a look at his back. He lifted his brother's white shirt and grimaced at the other rashes covering the scarred back. "Shit," he murmured.

"What?" Daryl breathed while squirming uncomfortably and still trying to scratch his back and arms.

"Don't move!" Merle snapped, and he didn't noticed Daryl's surprised flinch. "We've gotta go to the hospital,  _now_ ."

Daryl shook his head and turned to face Merle. "What is it?" he asked in a trembling voice.

Merle rubbed his face. "Ya have more rashes on your back, I dunno what it is."

Daryl frowned and let himself be helped up from the couch. He followed Merle nervously to the door, absently scratching his arms.

"Don't scratch!" Merle yelled, prying Daryl's hands from his arms.

Daryl jerked away from Merle and glared at him. "Stop  _yellin'_  at me, asshole!" he yelled back with an upset expression.

Merle took a deep breath and nodded. "Sorry, baby. I'm worried, okay? It looks serious. So now, put your coat on and come with me."

Daryl pursed his lips and winced when the movements of putting his coat on made the rashes itch even more. He followed Merle to the truck silently, his hands fisted in his pockets, each step more excruciating than the other.

They didn't speak during the drive, but Daryl could feel Merle's eyes on him every once in a while. He grimaced every time he felt the obsessive need to scratch, but kept his hands fisted, his nails digging painfully into his palms.

They walked briskly into the ER and Merle addressed the nurse behind the counter. "Hey. We need to see a doctor," he said gruffly.

The nurse eyed him suspiciously, assessing him as a potential threat (—Merle couldn't really begrudge her, as they hadn't made any effort to be presentable—) and she smiled coldly. "What is the problem?"

Merle glared. "My brother has some kind of rash on his back and arms. He's in pain."

The nurse's face softened when she saw Daryl's pitiful sweaty face, damp eyes and shaking body. She nodded and smiled at him, this time more sincerely. "I'll see what I can do. Why don't you take a seat until a doctor can see you?"

Merle nodded and gently guided Daryl to the row of plastic chairs, sitting as far as possible as a woman with two sickly looking children. Daryl was sick enough, he didn't need to be exposed to any more germs roaming around. With a sigh, Daryl slumped against Merle, head on his shoulder. "I wanna go home," he murmured dejectedly. 

Merle ran a hand through the sweaty strands and hugged Daryl closer to his side. "I know, but those rashes ain't good news, baby. And you're hurtin'. At least the doc's gonna give ya some painkillers or somethin'."

Daryl hummed and absentmindedly scratched his right wrist. He jumped in surprise when Merle pried his hand away and looked sideways at him. "Don't scratch."

Daryl nodded and shivered. He hoped he wasn't seriously sick. They couldn't really afford any long time care. "Is it serious?" he asked softly, chewing on his thumb.

Merle kissed the side of his head. "I don't think so. Must be 'n allergic reaction or somethin'. Don't worry, Dare."

They waited about an hour before a nurse came for them. They entered a small examination room and were greeted by a young doctor around Daryl's age. "Hello, I'm Doctor Simons."

Merle's hackles immediately rose as he saw the white toothy grin directed at Daryl and the doctor's brown eyes nearly undressing his oblivious baby brother. He wouldn't hesitate to punch the guy if he so much as touched Daryl.

Except, he hadn't thought about the fact the guy was the  _doctor_ . Of course he was going to touch Daryl.  _Shit_ .

"What is the problem, Mr…" the tall, athletic doctor looked down at the chart and grinned. " _Dixon_ ."

Daryl shrugged and started to swing his legs on the examination table and the doctor's smile fell when Daryl didn't answer and didn't even look in his direction. For once, Merle was happy for Daryl's antisocial behavior.  _That's it, baby,_ he thought,  _show him you're not interested in his stupid flirting_ .

"He's got rashes on his arms and his back," Merle informed after the silence became uneasy and stretched too long.

The doctor's eyes lit up and he turned to Daryl. "We'll examine that right away. Take your shirt off, please."

Merle grimaced, now the asshole was going to put his dirty hands  _everywhere_  on Daryl.

"Maybe you should wait outside," the doctor said to Merle with a smile.

Merle frowned and shook his head. "I'd rather stay here," he answered coldly, staring at the doctor.

"The nurse needs your details," the man said, smiling triumphantly.

Merle glared and turned to Daryl, approaching him and kissing him gently on the forehead. "I won't be long, yeah?" he whispered. "You gonna be aw'right?"

Daryl sighed and shrugged. "Yeah," he answered. "I just hope it won't be long and we'll be home soon."

Merle glared at the doctor. "Yeah, me too," he muttered. He ran a hand through Daryl's hair one last time and exited the examination room quickly, hoping to fill in the forms rapidly and go back to Daryl before the asshole made a move on his helpless baby brother. God, since when doctors did not even bother to hide their flirty manners? What a slut.

He walked to the counter and smiled tightly at the nurse, her previous bad mood returned when she handed him the forms and snippily explained what to put in it. He sat back on a plastic chair and started to write down all the medical and health assurance information he had about Daryl.

He knew all those pieces of information by heart and could safely say he could recite them in his sleep, knowing every small or serious trip to the hospital. He glanced at his watch when he put down the last bit of information and stood. He smiled at the nurse as nicely as he could and put the notepad in front of her without a word, walking back in the direction where he left Daryl alone. In a vulnerable state.  _With a man with obvious intentions_ .

God, was he stupid or something?

He walked faster and knocked once on the door before opening it swiftly. Daryl and the doctor looked up, his brother's eyes clearly lighting up.

"Merle," Daryl called, squirming uneasily on the cold table. "He said I have fuckin'  _chicken pox_ ."

Merle froze and glanced up at the doctor, fear clearly on his face. "Isn't it, like  _serious_ , when an adult has it?"

The doctor smiled slightly,  _smugly_ , making Merle understand that he was the one with the fancy lab coat and diploma while he was just a mere hick with dirty hands. "No, it's just a preconceived idea," he explained slowly, "although, in Daryl's case the rashes are particularly aggressive."

Merle nodded, eyes narrowed and walked to Daryl, wincing at the rashes on his chest he hadn't seen before. "Maybe ya caught it from one of Rick's kids?" he asked quietly, running a finger on Daryl's cheek. He could see spots starting to appear everywhere.

Daryl's blue eyes stared skeptically at him and Merle smiled sadly. "Aww, sorry, baby."

Daryl shrugged and grabbed his shirt. "We won't be able to go campin' like we wanted."

Merle smiled at him. "'t's okay. Don't worry. It's best for you to rest."

Daryl grimaced at him and moaned, slumping forward until his head rested against the middle of Merle's chest. "'t's humiliatin'," he whispered.

Merle chuckled. "Nah baby, 't's just a disease like any other."

"'t's  _gross_ , Mer'. I'm gonna be like—a fuckin'…dotted idiot."

The older brother laughed out loud. "Don't worry. I think you're beautiful," he reassured.

Daryl nodded and lifted his hand to scratch his cheek but Merle intercepted it in a firm grasp. "Don't, you'll scar."

Daryl nodded once again, and they both started when the doctor cleared his throat. "I'm going to prescribe a cream. Apply it to every spot and rash. They must be covered all the time. If the cream fades away, apply it again."

He handed the sheet of paper to Merle without a glance and turned to smile at Daryl. "Don't scratch. I know it's hard and, judging by the number of rashes, it must be very painful, but do try." He put his hands in his coat pockets. "If you accidentally scratch and bleed, use a humid piece of cloth on it. Lukewarm baths are a good solution if the itches become too much." He smiled at Daryl. "Don't hesitate to come back if something's wrong."

Daryl nodded and put his coat back on. They thanked the doctor, Merle sneering slightly and wrapping a possessive arm around Daryl's waist before leading him back to the truck. They buckled up and Merle drove back to their house, cursing under his breath all the way.

"He gave me his number," Daryl said when they were halfway home.

Merle turned to glance at him, blue eyes huge and incredulous. "The bastard!" he yelled angrily. "And ya waited until we were nearly home to tell me!"

Daryl shrugged, unapologetic. "Ya would have punched him, bro, 'n I'm sure he'd have pressed charges, 'n Rick'd have no choice but to arrest ya.  _Again_ ."

Merle shook his head in disbelief, but then smiled crookedly. "So ya were  _protectin'_  me?" he teased.

Daryl glared at him but still nodded, rubbing his cheek against the cracked leather of the seat. "I can protect ya, Mer'."

Merle smiled gently at him. "I know that. I find it sweet."

Daryl huffed and slumped even more in his seat. "Why d'ya say that? You're  _hot_  when ya protect me, but I'm  _sweet_ ? Why?"

Merle chuckled. "I dunno. It's just that—" he stopped and shrugged. "I dunno."

Daryl wrinkled his nose. "I know what ya think," he said, "ya think I'm just your baby brother 'n people won't take me seriously if I try to protect you. 'Cause you're Merle Dixon, 'n people are scared of ya…mostly. You're always—"

"HEY!" Merle suddenly cut his rambling off. He turned to glare at Daryl. "Ya do plenty. We're equals in this relationship. It's not because I take on a more protective side that it makes you—I dunno— _weak_  or a lesser man."

Daryl pursed his lips not finished with the argument, but nodded still. He yawned suddenly and felt his eyelids droop. "I'm tired."

Merle nodded. "We'll be home soon. Don't worry, I'll take care of ya."

Daryl reached a hand and grasped Merle's knee, squeezing gently. "I know," he whispered, already half asleep. "I love ya, Merle."

Merle brought Daryl's hand to his lips and kissed it gently. "I love ya too, Dare."

He turned to look at Daryl and smiled. He didn't know if the chicken pox was such a bad thing after all. He'd have Daryl all to himself in the house, no one able to come because of the highly contagious side of the disease.

Fortunately he was immunized.

He remembered having it when he was six.

He nearly regretted all the moaning and crying he did back then. If he had known it would have let him play nurse for a hot and sexy archer for two weeks nearly forty years later, maybe he wouldn't have been such a nightmare to his mother.

0

**Author's Note:**

> This work is unbetaed. Please feel free to point any typos you saw or missing words, or any sentences that just don't make any sense :)
> 
> **[SUBMIT A PROMPT HERE](http://hillbells.tumblr.com/submit) ******


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